The 36th Annual Hunger Games
by Shoshi A
Summary: Follow districts nine's female tribute as she tries to survive the 36th Annual Hunger Games. Rated T for violence
1. Chapter 1

I peal my eyes open, the early morning light shining on them. The old clock next to my bed reads 5 a.m. I run a hand through my messy black locks, a few dry strands of hair falling through my fingers. I can never sleep through the night, but today is worse than ever. It's the reaping for the Hunger Games. I know it's unlikely for me to get picked, but I'm constantly worrying about everyone I know.

We have a fairly tight community around where I live, most people willing to help out one another. I've always been worried a close friend will be picked.

I push the thoughts of the reaping out of my head, and walk downstairs, where I find my mother sitting on a faded yellow chair in our living room.

My mother was once a very beautiful woman, with long flowing dark hair and a warm smile. At least that's what I'm told. Of course she's always been beautiful to me, but stress over the years has drastically worn out her face.

She holds a cup of tea in her hands, and a book sits in her lap. She looks up as she sees me walk down the stairs. I walk over to her and she gently rubs my arm.

"Nervous for the reaping?"

I shrug "As nervous I always am," I say as I take a seat on our couch.

"There are thousands of names in there Kyra, only five are yours," she says comfortingly to me.

"But what about Anna?" I ask her. "And Harlan?" My two closest friends from school, both who've taken out large amounts of tessera over the years.

"Don't worry honey, everything will be alright." She gives my kind smile and reaches for my hand. "Come, I know what will cheer you up."

I follow her into our small kitchen, where my mother take out the ingredients for bread. I guess you could say my family is pretty stereotypical for district nine, but baking with my mother has has made me happy ever since I was young. I was always good at it. I have steady hands, my mother says. Good for mixing and measuring. And because of my excellent and eye coordination, I've hardly ever spilled ingredients out of the mixing bowl.

My mother frowns. "It looks like we're out of basil, could you run down to Anna's and get some?"

"Of course," I say.

I doubt we're really out, but I know my mother wants me to see my friends to calm down before the reaping. I jog out of the house and into the street, where a couple of people are walking. After a few moments, I arrive at Anna's modest home, where her family sell herbs and vegetables in one room. A bell jangles at the door as I walk in.

Anna looks up from some knitting she's working on, and gives me a huge smile, despite the obvious lack of sleep. She runs up to me for a hug.

"Hey!" She says, "how are you?"

"As good as I can be on reaping day I guess. How about you?"

"God, I nearly forgot it was reaping day! It'll be my sister's first year." Her smile slowly fades. "But that's okay, I'm hear to volunteer for her if anything happens."

"I think it'll be okay Anna," I say, "her name's only in there once."

"You're right Kyra, thanks. So what can I get for you?"

We walk over to the bins of food they have for sale and she helps me find the herbs I need. I give her the money, plus a few coins I put in the tip jar.

She smiles at me as we walk to the door. "Good luck today Kyra."

"You too, Anna."

She hugs me again before I walk out, heading back home.

As I arrive at my house, I can already smell the bread baking. My calls out to me from kitchen, "I already made one loaf, we'll use the herb for the others."

I head into the kitchen where we finish baking. My thoughts calm, and I know I'll make it through another reaping.

When we've finished and the loaves sit on the table, I jog upstairs to wake my father.

Quietly stepping into my parents modest bedroom, I give my father a light tap on the shoulder.

Though he's an older man who can barely work anymore, he has the greatest respect around here.

He pushes himself harder day after day, and tells the local children stories of before life was this way. Of the happiness before the games began, even when war raged around everyone.

My mother even considered not having children at all when they first married, but my father constantly told her the stories of life before the games, and how he knew we would achieve that again someday. He finally convinced her to have kids, and he says she was never happier than the day I was born.

He always says we can't be afraid of the capitol, because our fear is the only thing that keeps them in control of us. I know what he says is true, but that doesn't tame the fear I have that one day the capitol will hear of his rebellious stories and take him away.

My father turns around slowly, smiling when he sees it's me.

"Good morning dear," he says to me.

"Hi dad," I say softly to him, "come on, it's time to eat."

I trod back down the stairs to help my mother set the table.

It's a tradition in every district to have a family meal before the reaping each year. I try not to think about the fact that it could always be my last meal at home before heading off to die.

As my family and I sit around the table, my parents give me the same talk they have every since the first reaping I was eligible for.

How much they love me and how grateful they are to have me as their child. As much as I love my parents, the talk has always just made me more nervous for the reaping.

I sit at the table, picking at the bread and other food on my plate as my parents talk about neighborhood happenings.

Eventually, when my mother notices my nervousness, she gets up from the table.

"Only about an hour until the reaping, we'd better start getting ready," she says to me.

I smile at her, grateful for the distractions from my own thoughts.

We head into the bathroom, where she slowly starts brushing through my tangled hair.

My mother has always helped me groom myself, since I'm not the best in that area. I prefer to stick with baking and working.

She separates my hair, putting two parts on each side. She then combs through and braid each side of my hair, sending two sleek braids falling at the middle of my back.

Finally, she pulls out a soft pink lipstick, spreading it evenly across my lips. She also smears some on each of my cheeks, blending it in to give them a sweet feminine touch.

She gives me a smile.

"You look beautiful dear," she says to me, "you're becoming such a lovely young woman."

I hug her and she takes my hand, leading me to my room.

She hands me a knee length green dress and black slip on shoes that don't look very sturdy. She leaves the room and I change into the clothes. The dress is a little tight on me, since it's the same one I wore last year, but my small frame fits into it well. I also slip a think silver ring onto my finger, the single piece of jewelry I own.

I take a deep breath before walking downstairs to pace in my living room as my parents get ready.

When they come down in their nicest clothes, I know it's time to go.

Many other families walk down the street around us, young children excited for the big event, unaware of the horror that they're heading towards.

My eyes scour the streets, spotting Harlan, his parents, and brothers walking to the town center.

I jog up to him to wish him luck before the reaping.

He gives me a smile when I catch up to him, and we have a light conversation until we arrive.

I take a deep breath.

"You ready for this?" He asks me.

"I guess so," I tell him, as we go to sign in.

The finger prick always startles me, even though I know they have to take blood.

"Good luck," Harlan says to me, as we crowd in with the rest of the sixteen year olds.

"You too, I say back to him.

Everyone begins to settle, and I look over the stage.

On one side sits our mayor, on the other our single victor, Barric Stager.

Anna quietly makes her way over to us through the crowd of teenagers as the major steps up to read the Treat of Treason. He tried to make it sound interesting every year, but no one ever really pays attention.

Our escort, Florentina Little, sits picking at her lengthy electric blue nails, obviously bored.

When the major is finally done, Barric steps up to make his speech.

His hands shake as he takes out notecards. He stutters through about seven minuets of his speech before finally giving up and sitting back down.

He's never made an entire speech before, and has barely been able to have a conversation ever since he claimed victory to the twenty eighth Hunger Games. No one's ever dared to make fun of him though, perhaps out of respect for being district nine's first victor, or just because of the lingering presence of the peacekeepers.

After a short silence, Florentina steps up.

"Alright then! Let's begin this years reaping! Boy go first!"

Harlan slips his hand into mine, and he gives it soft squeeze.

She walks over to the large glass tank that holds all the male names, reaches in, and picks out a folded piece of paper.

"Carter Barlington!"

I feel Harlan sign of relief next to me, but I recognize the last name of the tribute.

As he slowly walks up stage, I recognize him.

"Harlan," I whisper, "that's Alfred's brother." He and his younger brother share the same tan skin and deep brown hair, though Carter is definitely physically stronger than his younger brother from my class.

The peacekeepers rush him on stage, then return to their regular stance.

"Great!" Florentina shouts over the dead silence. "And now time for the ladies."

She walks to bowl of female names, and circles her hand through the pieces of paper before selecting one.

"And the female tribute this year is Kyra Alasia!"


	2. Chapter 2

My heartbeat seems to stop, time to freeze.  
No, I must've heard wrong, she couldn't have called me.  
My name was only in there five times.  
Five times, that's what my mother said.  
There were thousands of names in that bowl.

Harlan's hand slips from mine, cold with confusion and surprise. He looks over at me, his skin pale and his eyes sad.  
"Kyra – I'm – I'm so sorry"

"Come on, come up to the stage," our escort calls, but I'm too numb to move. Someone gives me a shove forward, and I begin walking up the stage, not looking where I'm going and bumping into a few people on the way. I wish something would come save me, that someone would volunteer, or that they would announce they've picked the wrong name. But no such thing happens as the peacekeepers nudge me to walk faster. I somehow manage to stumble up the stage. Florentina tugs on my arm and pulls Carter and me to center stage.  
"Well here we have them!" She shouts, "Your tributes for the 36th Hunger Games!"

I'm sitting on a chair. A soft one, with rich creamy fabric that embraces my shivering skin. I tell myself just to focus on the chair, to take deep breaths.  
Do not cry. I cannot cry. There's nothing I can do, I was reaped, and I cannot escape. I have to be strong now. I have to fight the best I can in the games. I don't know how, but I know I must.  
I keep taking deep, shallow breaths. It's all I can do not to burst into tears.

The doors open, and my parents walk in. I don't know if I'm ready for this, but I don't have a choice now.

My mother pulls me into a deep hug, tears freely rolling down her cheeks in thick waves. My father wraps us both in his arms, and we stand just like that for a few moments, holding on to the people we love most. My parents both cry their hearts out, and I allow myself just this time to softly cry, because I know once this all starts, I'll have to be stronger than I ever have. As we pull away from each other, my mother looks me straight in the eyes.  
"Kyra," she says, still stumbling over tears, "I love you with all my heart, and no matter what happens I always will."  
"No matter what," my father says, "remember how much you mean to us when you're in that arena. Never give up hope." He hold my face in his hands and kisses my head.  
We're in the middle of another hug when the peacekeepers come in and take them out.  
"I love you!" I scream out to them, savoring their faces, for I know it very well may be the last time I'll ever see them again.

After a couple minuets, a group of students from my class come in. They all give me hugs and wishes of good luck, their way of saying goodbye.

Next is Anna and her parents.  
They all tell me how much they've loved having me a part of their lives through the years, and how they'll never forget me. They each give me tender hugs, and leave me a small bag of chopped apples with spices, along with a note.

My next visitor is a bit of a surprise. It's Alfred Barlington, shaking and teary eyed. He doesn't say anyting as he walks in, just gives me a hug. I let his tears quietly slip onto my shoulder as he holds me, until he finally lets go. "He's – he's strong you know," he says to me, "and I know he'll ally with you. I know it's a lot to ask, but I need you to help keep him alive. I need him to have allies. I don't want to lose him Kyra." He pauses to take a breath.  
"And if it can't be him, then I hope it's you. Good luck in there."  
He doesn't even give me a chance to say anything before running out of the room.  
I think about what he's said to me. I've never seen myself as particularly strong, but I'm definitely not much in comparison to Alfred's brother.

I get a couple more visitors, an old teacher, a store clerk, a neighborhood family, none of whom really stand out to me.  
Finally, Harlan comes in.  
He enters the room and wraps his arms around, tears falling down his cheeks.  
"I'm so sorry Ky, I never thought you would get picked."  
"There's nothing you can do." I shake my head,"I'll just have to try my hardest to win." "I know you can do it, I believe in you." He hugs me again.  
"Time's up!" A peacekeeper calls from outside the door.  
"But he just got here!" I yell back, getting no reply.  
"Good luck Kyra, I love you."  
"I love you too!" I yell to him, as he leaves the room.  
He's the last friendly face I see before being taken away from the justice building, and possibly away from district nine forever.

We're swarmed with cameras as we head to the station. I don't have to energy to say or do anything but sit there and try not to cry.  
Our escort tells us just to try and look our bravest.  
She's not much help.

By the time we arrive at the train station, most of the cameras are gone. I wonder how I've appeared to the viewers so far. I know that's something I'll have to think about know. What strategy I want to use, how I plan to get sponsers. All of these thought make my head buzz as I go to my room. Florentina told me to be ready in thirty minuets.  
My thoughts are nearly enough to distract me from the luxury I'm surrounded by. The bed in the middle of the room has layers of silky blankets, and there's a closet as large as the size of my bedroom at home. It's too much for me to handle, so I go into the bathroom. I consider taking a bath, but I don't want to ruin the hair my mother did for me. Instead I wash my face where the blush has tear streaks through it, but keep the now thin layer of lipstick on. I'm not especially keen on changing out of my dress either, but I decide it's not really appropriate for the capitol, so I head into the closet to pick new clothing. I've never had this many choices before, so it's a little strange for me. I choose some comfortable black pants and blue blouse, but keep the flats my mother gave me.  
When I come out of my closet there's a knock at my door.  
It's Carter, standing in the hall outside, now with wet hair and changed into different clothing.  
He holds his hand out and gives me a small nod. "I'm Carter Barlington."  
I shake his hand, "Kyra Alasia."  
"I think our best bet will be to ally in the games, maybe make a few more allies too," he says to me.  
"Yeah," I say planning to go along with whatever he wants. I know he's my best chance of doing well in the games, so I follow whatever he thinks is best.  
Florentina comes strolling down the hall, dressed in a long dress and even higher heels than before.  
"Oh good! There you two are. Come on, it's time for dinner. We've got a lot to discuss. Come, come." She ushers us through the halls and into another room for dinner.  
There's a long table filled with food that looks like it would last my family a month. I'm so unused to being surrounded by so much luxury food, it's almost too much to handle.  
Carter and I sit next to each other, Florentina and Barric across from us.  
I try to eat slowly, so as not to overload my stomach on rich foods, and I notice Carter doing the same.  
"S- so," Barric says, "I think we n – need to start talking about your s -strategy."  
Carter and I look up to Barric. We just got here and it's already time to talk about the strategy.

I guess this is when the games really begin.


	3. Chapter 3

"Maybe strategizing can wait until they've – settled in a little more," Florentina says gently to Barric.

He shakes his head, "It doesn't matter when we start. They'll never be prepared for what's in there."

He starts shaking a little, and Florentina has to tell him to go lie down. Every year it seems life the escorts have to take an effort to take care of him. His mind hasn't really been all there sine he won the games thirteen years ago.

Though he's nine's first and only victor, he didn't exactly win his games with district pride. Everyone says he wasn't meant to win – he spent the games hiding – terrified by any other tribute, surviving on fresh water he stumbled upon and plants he recognized. He was so quiet the careers forgot about him and started killing each other off. All it took was one kill on the last career for him to win.

Personally I don't think it really matters how he won. He still knew how to locate edible food and be quiet enough to hide from the other tributes. And as long as he's my only voice on how to make it out of the arena alive, I may as well get any advice I can from him.

When Florentina notices we can't hold down any more food, she leads us to a room to watch the reaping in each district. Most of the tributes look pretty average. Just like I assumed, the career districts look like our biggest competition. All of them are volunteers – except the girl from four, who walks up to the stage fearless and determined, showing no signs of weakness, though she doesn't look like the best candidate to win the games.

It's a little disturbing to see myself being called up. The looks of pure terror that appeared on my face as I walked to the stage. The astonishment on Carter's when his name was called.

We finish watching all of them, but I'm too overwhelmed to talk about competition and alliances with Carter, so I head back to the room I'm staying in.

It's dark outside now, and I can hardly believe it was just this morning I was reaped. It seems like centuries that I was taken away from my parents and peaceful life forever, but I know the worst hasn't even come yet.

I sit and stare out the window as we pass building's and lights, taking us closer and closer to the capitol by the minute.

I wake up surprisingly peacefully, despite the day ahead of me. I manage to take a bath and put on some casual clothes before Florentina comes knocking on my door.

"You really should fix your hair," she tells me as we walk to the dining room. "Sponsors will want to fund a tribute who looks a little more – presentable," she tells me in a way she probably thinks is kind.

I roll my eyes, but redo the braids my mother did for me yesterday.

When we get to room, Barric is sitting at a small round table, stirring a steaming drink in front of him.

Florentina sits down and starts reading a thin glossy book with weird clothing designs in it.

The food on the table is just as luxurious as the night before, but the bread doesn't taste nearly as good as the freshly baked loaves from district nine.

I'm half way through a glass of thin, watered out milk, when Carter comes in. His hair is messy, and he's wearing the same rumpled clothes from home.

Florentina gives him the same talk she did to me about looking presentable. "We'll be in the capitol any minute now!" She tells him.

"Looking good for the capitol isn't exactly my main concern," he sneers at her.

"I was just trying to give you some friendly advice, but do whatever you want. It's your life – not mine," she sneers back at him.

He rolls his eyes and walks away, and when it's clear Barric and Florentina won't do anything, I go after him.

I knock lightly at his bedroom door, but get no reply. I go in anyway and find him looking up at the ceiling.

"You should probably listen to her," I tell him. "She's obnoxious, but she knows what she't talking about. If we don't make an effort, we won't get any sponsors."

He sighs, "I'm just mad. I just wanted a normal life, I didn't ask for this to happen."

"You think any of us did? You think I want this?" I say angrily to him.

I take a deep breath. "Look, I know it's not likely, but one of us might actually be able to win this thing. Or at least get far in the games. We're both strong, our families aren't poor, and we can get allies. And I'm not giving that chance up just because you can't put on a damn fake smile for the capitol."

He sits up, "Yeah, I guess you're right, it's just -" His words are cut off by the sudden bright lights surrounding us. We look out the window, staring at the odd buildings and colors we've barely ever seen in district nine. Children tug at their parents hands, pointing and laughing at the train. Some citizens come over to look at the train. I grab Cater's wrist and go into the dining room where the windows are larger. I smile at the people outside, getting some clapping in return.

Carter is sulking at the table, but I just keep looking at the people outside.

Florentina drops each us off at a small room, where a group of stylist and beauticians are waiting to make us camera ready.

They make me strip down to just my underclothes, and start removing my body hair, then lathering me in different creams and oils.

Apparently my hair is so bad, they have to have one specific person just to fix it's damage.

"God, what have you done to your poor hair?"

I shrug, "I'm out in the sun a lot."

"Do you always wear it in braids like this?" He asks me

"Just on special occasions... is there something wrong with it?"

"Oh, no, it's perfectly adorable, just not really the look we're going for." He takes out the braids and starts some long procedure to give moisture to my hair.

He's still working on it when the others finish up and leave so my stylist can come in.

I recognize the stylist, Cassia Rabirius, as the stylist from district eight last year. Their costumes were a little eccentric, but not as bad as some of the others I've seen. Maybe it'll be better for us since our district isn't exactly as diverse as the outfit options for eight.

"Kyra!" It's great to meet you! Call me Cassia." She's a short thin woman who only reaches up to my neck, but her hair is piled up in thick purple ringlets that add at least a foot to her hight.

"Nice to meet you," I say, trying to shake her hand while my head is still bent over.

"So," she says, "I've been spending a great amount of time working on the design for this year. My partner stylist, Felix, and I have an amazing idea!" She opens a large notebook and shows me some drawings of potential outfits. Luckily, an outfit made entirely of wheat and that covers very little skin has been crossed out. There are a few similar ones on the page, but the one circled is a brown dress with some odd accessories styled to look like grain.

"It looks boring on the page, but it's be absolutely fantastic, I promise!"

"Yeah, seems great," I tell her. She doesn't seem very excited by my response, so I give her a smile and say, "I'm sure it'll look amazing." Deep inside I'm just grateful the outfits this year are normal.

She seems a bit more satisfied, and tells me some food will arrive for me while she and Felix get our outfits ready.

A few minuets later, my hair is finished, and I'm alone. There's only a small mirror in the room, but I use it to look at my entire body. I'm amazed what they've done. I still look like myself, but much more polished. My body is completely smooth, any trace of sunburns washed away. My dry, uneven hair has been trimmed, and somehow made completely soft. Even my on face, the thin layer of hair has been stripped, and my eyebrows are two thick, even lines.

Soon, an avox walks in with a tray of food and some basic clothes for me to put on. I quickly change, and hear a knock at my door. Carter stands outside, and I let him.

"Are you supposed to be here?" I ask him

He shrugs, "I'm not sure, but I didn't really feel like staying alone in my room any longer."

"You already ate?" I ask him as I sit back down.

"Yeah, they finished a while ago, how long did it take them with you?"

"A long time. They had to do some long process to my hair to make it soft."

"Oh, okay. So anyway, I think our best bet is to ally with district eight. I don't know about the girl, but the boy is pretty strong. The careers won't sink low enough to ally with anyone but themselves, but I think eight will ally with us."

"Yeah," I say between bites. "The girl from eight, I can talk to her during training. See what she can do."

"That sounds good," he says as our stylists walk in.

"God, there you are, Carter. I've been looking for you _everywhere,_ " Felix says dramatically before dragging Carter out of my room. Cassia's holding a long dress in her hands, which she excitedly presents to me. She helps me slip into it, and I'm unexpectedly surprised by it. The dress is fairly practice, like something could work in, were it pants and not a dress. The fabric has a strange shimmery affect to it, but otherwise seems to just be a plain light brown dress.

The bigger part are the accessories. Cassia puts bands shaped like wheat on my upper arms, right where the sleeves of the dress ends. I'm also given various gold rings for each of my fingers. Once she seems satisfied, she calls in my prep team again, and they begin working on my hair. It takes three people to do and a lengthy amount of time, but my hair looks beautiful once they finish. It's up in a bun, with a thick intricate braid crowning my head. Weaved into the braid is an artificial bright golden stalk of barley. They also do some matching makeup, a gold eyeshadow and some light red on my lips. When they decide I look perfect, they lead me to a waiting room where some of the other tributes are already in their chariots.

I steal a glance at the careers. The girl from one is eighteen, the same age as Carter. Both of them, along with the girl from six and the girl from twelve are the oldest in the games. She's wearing a diamond encrusted bra and a long skirt, the rest of her skin powdered in glitter, but she somehow seems to make the elegant outfit look fearsome. The tributes from four seem to be having an intense conversation. They both have pale skin and white – blonde hair, looking like they could be related. Their outfits are pale blue, and seem to imitate waves.

Soon, Carter comes out, Felix and Cassia trailing behind him. I pull him aside to talk before we have to go out.

"Look," I say, "I know you're not really into being friendly to the capitol citizens, but this time is important. If we aren't lovable enough, we won't get any sponsors. All you need to do is smile and wave."

He nods, "Okay."

"Good," I say, as we get into the chariot.

Just moments later, everyone is ready to go. "You'll be great!" Cassia tells me, as the doors to the awaiting stadium open.


End file.
